OUT OF THE RED ↝ dave grohl

forty-seven.

         REAGAN WAS SITTING on the front porch steps to her house when Dave pulled up, parking his car at the end of the driveway. She hugged her knees closer to her chest and counted the breaths she was forcing out, knowing it would do her no good to hold them in.

It had been an agonizing morning. Dave had called her straightaway, asking for a second time if he could stop by before going to Kurt and Krist. Again, Reagan had told him no. She feared that he wouldn't have been able to make it through a rehearsal with Nirvana in light of the news she was planning to tell him. He'd need his schedule cleared in order to process it.

Before Reagan had gone to bed the night before, Kate had called the house, checking to make sure that she was alright. She'd suggested that Reagan hold off on telling Dave about the pregnancy — Reagan got the feeling that Kate was hinting at a way to make it all seem like it had never happened before Dave could find out. But that felt wrong. For some reason, Reagan couldn't ignore her intuition that Dave needed to know.

And even if it weren't for intuition, she would have wanted to tell him anyways. The only person she wanted to turn to was him. Nobody else could be her source of comfort through it all, even if it was going to eventually blow up in her face.

She watched him open the car door and get out, his eyes zeroing in on her. He was worried. Even though she'd told him otherwise, he still thought she'd summoned him there to break up. It was laughable, but Reagan could have only wished that things were actually that simple.

As he started up the driveway, she stood to her feet and wiped her jeans off, examining the ground. When Dave reached her, his hands went around her arms and pulled her in close.

"Hey," he said softly.

She chewed the inner corner of her lip, already having torn it to pieces the night before in a fit of anxiety. When she hesitated to greet him back, Dave held her tighter with desperation.

"Can you just get straight to it? I've been going crazy all night and all day," he begged helplessly.

"I'm not breaking up with you," Reagan mumbled. She couldn't tear her gaze away from her feet, wondering what it would be like to crack into a million little pieces when she finally looked into his eyes.

"Come here," he said, folding her into a hug. In a way, he understood based off her body language that she needed his physical contact. Reagan breathed deeply when she tucked her face into his chest, smelling cigarettes and the familiar laundry detergent he used on his clothes.

"Whatever it is you've got to say," he whispered, "you can say it. I'm right here, Reagan. I'm here."

"I know you are," she struggled. Her hands were doing it again — the terrible shaking. Even as they remained clasped behind his back, she could feel the quivering starting at the tips of her fingers.

"Let's go inside," Dave suggested. "Maybe that will calm you down."

"No!" Reagan ordered hastily. Richard was home for the day. "No . . . no going inside. We've got to talk out here."

Dave looked perplexed as he stared between her and the front door, clearly wondering what was stopping them both from entering the house. He didn't argue though as he took her hand in his.

"Okay. We'll stay out here."

Reagan took a deep breath. "Good. Trust me, it's better this way."

When she didn't continue on, Dave raised his eyebrows. She looked away, feeling her heartbeat quicken when she realized she wasn't doing what she had promised herself she would.